Read Truck Stop for Free Online Page A

him.
    Roger hurried down the long hallway, weaving around the buckets of rainwater. He reached the back door with the small windowpane and shoved it open.
    He stepped outside, scanned the wet darkness, and cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. “LILLY!” he screamed into the cold night.
    The drumming rain swallowed his voice. He looked over at a shadowy junkyard beyond the cyclone fence and yelled for her again. But nothing came back to him. No small cry. No “Daddy, I’m here.” Nothing.
    Roger pressed on, determined. He cut around the side of the truck stop complex to the repair garage.
    A strange, pale flickering light emanated from inside the barn-like metal structure. Roger stepped around to the front of the building; the garage doors were open.
    The mechanic he had met at the gas pumps in front of the diner when he first arrived was seated at a workbench beyond the service bays in back. A black spark shield covered his head, and he was working an arc welder. “Excuse me!” Roger yelled.
    The man didn’t hear him over the crackling and buzzing. Roger stepped through the open doors and carefully made his way across the greasy concrete floor past a large, dangling engine-hoist chain. Boxes of parts and supplies lined the walls, and closed doors led to what must be storage rooms or office space.
    As he grew closer, he could see that the mechanic was welding a crankshaft onto a sculpture made of various discarded engine parts. The sculpture was strangely elegant and almost organic-looking. It seemed alive as it danced and flickered in the smoke and flashing light from the arc welder.
    “Hey!” Roger yelled.
    This time the man stopped but didn’t turn off his welder. He looked up, his black welder’s mask still over his face.
    “I’m looking for my daughter. Seven, brown hair. Have you seen her back here anywhere?” Roger asked.
    The mechanic paused for a moment before shaking his head. Roger waited for something more, but he looked back at his sculpture and resumed his welding. Roger considered pressing the point but thought the better of it.
    He turned away and looked out the open garage doors. The truck wash building loomed nearby.
    Roger ducked back out into the rain and hurried over to the cavernous building. He stepped into the truck wash entrance and peered down the long, shadowy tunnel filled with idle hydraulics. “Lilly?” he yelled.
    Roger made his way down the corridor, past the massive, lifeless brushes and shammies. He paused halfway down, considered the eerie, shadowy tunnel. This was a waste of time. She’d never go in here. Not in a million years.
    Roger deliberated his next move, and that was when he heard it—several truck engines rumbling to life in the parking lot out front.
     

    __________
     
     
    Roger raced around the side of the complex in time to see several trucks clicking on their headlights; their air brakes popped and hissed. The family from the diner was piling into their minivan. Everyone was on the move at once, for some reason.
    Kat appeared at the diner doorway. “Roger!” she called.
    “What’s going on?” Roger asked as he cut over to her.
    “Word just went out that the top of the grade is going to get snowed in. This is the last shot at getting over the pass tonight.”
    Roger watched the row of trucks getting ready to leave. Their occupants were the only remaining witnesses who might have seen something.
    “Shit,” he swore, and took off.
    Kat watched him make a beeline toward the first truck as it headed out to the highway. “Hey! Roger, be careful!”
    Roger waved his arms and cut in front of the first truck as it rumbled toward the on-ramp. The massive beast slammed on its brakes and shuddered to a stop. Roger cut around to the cab and leaped up onto the side step. The annoyed, heavily tattooed driver rolled down his window. “What the fuck are you—?”
    “I’m looking for a little girl. My daughter,” Roger panted as he craned his neck and